


Feel

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Massage, Mild Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Pre-Relationship, Sorta ?, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 13:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13191282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: When Hajime is particularly sore and Tooru massages him, he can get kind of noisy. Normally Tooru enjoys this greatly, but the walls of his house are thin, and when his mom overhears them there's a small misunderstanding.





	Feel

**Author's Note:**

> ahh im back.. or trying.. this was just a tiny joke and my first (probs only) non smut on here, but i figured it could still count as smth to post on my smut account since sex is sort of involved. well no actual sex. but anyway  
> yeah i havent written in like two and a half months so this is bound to suck, and im too scared to actually read it through to edit, but im hoping to write more actual smut these next few days!  
> not sure about the rating, i chose T bc mention of sex and a bit of language but yeah

“Aah-fuck, Tooru, too hard,” Hajime breathes out through gritted teeth, pressing his face into the pillow.

Tooru presses his thighs down on each side of Hajimes hips, leaning in over Hajime’s naked back.

“Tell me where it hurts,” Tooru says calmly, smoothing his hands back up over Hajime’s shoulder blades, pressing his thumbs in against each side of Hajime’s spine, working downwards towards the middle of Hajime’s back, kneading sore muscle and forcing involuntary moans out of Hajime.

“Right— _there!”_ Hajime hisses when Tooru presses down against the most tense spot, and Tooru simply hums, slowly beginning to knead the knot, pressing his knuckles down against Hajime’s skin and sending waves of pain and pleasure down through his spine.

There’s a small layer of sweat covering Hajime’s skin, making Tooru’s palms stick to his back slightly, but Tooru doesn’t seem to mind the resistance, simply putting in a bit more force, leaning in over Hajime’s back and letting out a small grunt as he uses his own weight to press down right under Hajime’s shoulder blades.

Hajime digs his fingers into the bedsheet, turning his face to the side so he can look back up at Tooru, straining his neck slightly.

“You’re being too rough,” he says, punctuating the sentence with another intake of breath and a small grimace when Tooru presses down against a sore muscle.

“Iwa-chan likes it rough, though,” Tooru simply says, sliding back down over his ass to sit at the back of his thighs instead, hands slowly sliding down to Hajime’s lower back as well. Hajime doesn’t answer, simply turns his face back to press it down against the pillow with a small grunt. Tooru figures his silence is a way of agreeing to the statement, pressing down against the sore spot again, just to see Hajime’s back muscles tense and hear another moan escape his lips. He likes doing this, actually. Not only because Hajime always helps him out as well when he’s sore after meticulous workouts, but the position, the sounds and reactions he can get from him. It’s all teetering on the edge of a dangerous area, something that probably can’t be described as purely platonic, a line they’re yet to cross in their relationship, but Tooru has always enjoyed pushing the limits, even more so when Hajime is involved.

“You’re still so tense,” Tooru mumbles after a while, breaking the silence. Hajime just lets out another, small grunt in agreement, and Tooru can’t help but chuckle at how quiet Hajime gets during times like this, pride swelling up in him over the fact that he can make him melt like this, to a point where he’s too dazed to even work up the energy to speak — not that they need it, though. Tooru understands him just fine from the small sounds he lets out, his mannerisms and way of reacting so ingrained in Tooru’s mind that he doesn’t even have to look at him to guess what he’s thinking.

They’ve been doing it for longer than usual, much longer than necessary for Hajime’s sore muscles, but Hajime hasn’t complained or told Tooru to stop yet, and Tooru doesn’t want the moment to end either, too high on the feeling of _contentment,_ something he rarely feels for too long with his ambitious streak and skyhigh dreams, and his years long crush — can it even still just be called a crush? — on Hajime, always making him strive for _more,_ but for now he is content, and in this moment, it’s enough.

Tooru leans down, palms and fingertips resting on each side of Hajime’s back. Hajime’s back is wide and strong, but Tooru’s fingers are still long enough that he’s basically cradling Hajime’s waist, and the closer his face gets to the bared skin of Hajime’s back, the more he considers the idea of finally leaning down, pressing his lips against Hajime’s neck, crossing that line they’ve been keeping safe for so long.

A tired, satisfied sigh escapes Hajime’s lips, and Tooru stops, only a few centimeters above Hajime’s spine, pressing his lips together into a line. Hajime moves under him slightly for more comfort, back and shoulder muscles shifting under Tooru’s weight, and Tooru squeezes his eyes shut, leaning down and pressing his forehead down against Hajime’s nape, resting his head there for a second. Then two, then three, and Hajime _still_ doesn’t say anything, even though he must be aware that Tooru has stopped massaging him at this point. He can feel Hajime’s spine against his forehead, resting against the most protruding vertebra at the highest point of the back of his neck, and when Tooru slides his hands up a bit further, he can feel Hajime’s shoulders sink slightly as he relaxes.

“Are you done?” Hajime finally asks, a barely audible whisper, and Tooru digs his fingertips into his skin, as if trying to hold on to the moment, but he slowly sits back up, suddenly very aware that he’s still sitting with his crotch pressed against Hajime’s ass.

“Just tired,” he mumbles, and Hajime turns his head to the side to look up at him again from the corner of his eye, looking just as drowsy as Tooru feels.

“Roll off then so we can sleep, this tired me out too,” Hajime says, and Tooru tilts his head to the side, letting the words register. He raises a leg and crawls down so he’s lying on Hajime’s side instead, suddenly realising how little space there is on Hajime’s bed, and if he wasn’t so tired and relaxed, he’d probably be unable to fall asleep next to Hajime while this close and intimate.

“Afternoon naps? It’s like we’re kids again,” Tooru says, and he can’t help but think about how things have changed — Hajime’s bed is barely bigger, but _they’ve_ definitely grown, and now Tooru can’t even lie next to Hajime on the mattress without having a thigh and shoulder pressed against his body.

“Shut up,” Hajime says without any bite, reaching behind him before he pulls his blanket over the both of them, pushing a strand of hair away from Tooru’s face in the process before he leans back down against his pillow. “Thanks,” he adds, and it takes Tooru a few seconds to remember that he’s talking about the massage. His eyes are already closed, and Tooru can’t even complain about this part — how hopelessly exhausted Hajime gets from it, because it’s way too cute, and Tooru likes that he's so comfortable and relaxed around him. With the heat emitting from his body, now pressed up against Tooru’s from shoulder to toe, Tooru really doesn’t mind. With Hajime’s quiet, even breathing and the soft whirring from the aircon that Tooru has gotten used to during countless sleepovers since early childhood, he’s instantly lulled into a near-sleep state as well, falling asleep not much after Hajime, already half asleep when he feels a hand tug him closer by the waist.

 

They emerge from Hajime’s bedroom only a little while before dinnertime, puffy eyed and disoriented, and Tooru’s hair is too much of a mess for him to even want to look in a mirror to try and save it, just like how Hajime’s is flattened out on the side he had pressed down against the pillow. Tooru reaches out, ruffling Hajime’s hair until it’s almost returned to its usual spikiness, but it’s still flatter on one side, and if Tooru wasn’t aware that he probably looked much worse, he’d laugh.

They enter the kitchen with heavy steps, and Hajime’s mom instantly waves them over, turning on the kettle.

“I thought you kids would never wake up,” she says, laughing as she directs Tooru over to the chairs by the kitchen isle, waving her son over as well. “I have something I want to talk to you about,” she says, uncharacteristically vague for someone from the Iwaizumi household, but Tooru folds his hands in his lap, putting on his most innocent smile to hide the nerves and impatience already building up. Hajime nudges his shoulder as he sits down next to him, raising an eyebrow in question at his mom as she returns to the teapot, pouring the water over the loose tea leaves that she had already prepared — oh, had she been _waiting_ for them?

There’s a few minutes of quiet as she puts down some teacups and the tea steeps. Tooru does what he does best, fills out the silence with mindless talk about university applications, not as good as Hajime — or his family — at simply letting the silence be. His own family is much more talkative, and any silence in his own home is either awkward or pressed, unlike Hajime’s, where simple, comfortable silences are a common occurrence. When Hajime’s mother finally pours up the tea and pulls her own in, Tooru clears his throat.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Auntie?” he asks, as innocently as possible. Hajime is awfully still at his side, something Tooru isn’t used to.

“You know I’ll always love you, right?” she says, directed at both of them. Tooru’s eyes widen. While the statement itself isn’t a surprise to Tooru — he’s been a part of the family since childhood — the fact that she spoke the words out loud is a bit jarring.

“Is something wrong?” Hajime asks, just as unused to such serious exclamations of affection from his mom as Tooru is. Tooru knows he has it from his mom, the urge to show his sentiment through actions rather than words, and exactly that is why the sudden admission worries him.

“So, uh, I’m very happy for you, but I’m worried, and Hajime dear, you know how your father is, so I have to be the having this conversation with you,” she says, looking down at her cup of tea instead of at them, something Tooru also isn’t used to. He could easily have an entire conversation with his family without even looking at each other, but Hajime — and both of his parents — always made sure to keep eye contact, often so intensely that Tooru had trouble looking away. There’s a faint blush forming on her cheeks, signaling that she may be embarrassed, but Tooru fears that it’s something more serious.

Hajime is leaned in over the table, grabbing the edge worriedly. “What’s going on?” he asks, and Tooru feels oddly out of place, despite usually always feeling at home. But now, with his mom sounding so serious, and Hajime himself so worried, Tooru feels like he’s intruding on something private, something he’s not used to when it concerns Hajime.

“You know about safe sex, right?” Hajime’s mom asks, answering all of their questions in one line but raising even more.

“What.” Hajime says, face changing from one of worry to pure shock.

“Listen, the walls are thin,” his mom argues, “and I don’t _want_ to have this conversation either, but—”

“Oh my god,” Tooru says, staring at her, too shocked to even care about the fact that he accidentally just interrupted an adult. He instantly realises what she’s talking about, remembering what they had done just earlier, Hajime’s _sounds_ in reaction to the massage, how even Tooru sometimes got a little turned on by the noises he made. Hajime stares at him for a moment, seemingly realising what she’s referring to as well before he turns to his mom again.

“Fuck, mom, you misunderstood—” he tries, clasping his hand over his mouth after he realises his choice of words in front of his mom, but she doesn’t seem deterred by the swear word, just a tad relieved that she _hadn’t_ listened in on her son having sex.

“Ah, that’s—”

“I was giving him a massage,” Tooru says, suddenly realising that that doesn’t sound much better, but Hajime mom gives him a small smile, only slightly strained, before Hajime cuts in ass well.

“Because I was _sore,”_ Hajime says, pushing the teacup out of the way so he can rest both elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. _“Mom,”_ he groans in embarrassment, shaking his head.

“Let’s—uh, let’s just—forget about this, right?” Hajime’s mom tries, standing up and turning around, laughing nervously as she walks over to the stove, suddenly in a hurry to stir the curry already cooking that she hadn’t paid any attention to earlier.

“Yeah, lets,” Hajime says instantly, pushing himself up from his chair as well.

“Just remember—if you ever actually want to—condoms,” Hajime’s mom tries, still refusing to face them, much more focused on stirring the curry she’s making than necessary.

 _“Mom!”_ Hajime says in exasperation, covering Tooru’s ears. Tooru realises he should probably be getting up, or try to diffuse the situation, because it’s _awkward,_ and Tooru hates awkwardness, but part of him is also oddly happy that Hajime’s mom actually did think they were … dating, as if that makes it somewhat more realistic in the future. Maybe it does, Tooru thinks, as he turns to look up at Hajime, still blushing furiously, to the point where the tips of his ears are reddening as well.

“Right, you should—set the table for me, will you?” Hajime’s mom tries, a final attempt at stopping the conversation, and Hajime instantly agrees, walking over to where she has already put out the bowls. Tooru joins him, reaching out for the bowls at the same time as Hajime, and for a moment, Hajime’s hands cover his, his skin warm to the touch and surprisingly soft, considering how roughly his palms are treated during practice. They lock eyes for a moment, and suddenly the warmth is gone as Hajime pulls back his hands, face still reddening, turning away and grabbing the drinking glasses instead. _Fuck,_ Tooru thinks, because Hajime doesn’t look disgusted or shocked, just really, really embarrassed that the _something_ that was budding between them was brought up so suddenly and directly by his mom of all people, and maybe—maybe right now Hajime is considering what she said, maybe it didn’t have to be one of them who crossed the line, maybe this is enough.

Their faces meet across the table while they’re setting it, and Hajime looks away again for a moment, avoiding eye contact before deciding against it, turning to look back at Tooru.

“Fuck, I’m—I’m sorry, I hope it’s not—you know,” Hajime tries, and Tooru shakes his head instantly, waving at Hajime as if physically trying to push away his worries. “Don’t mind!” he says, winking at him, and for a moment Hajime stares at him dumbfounded, but then he simply shakes his head, turning back away to finish setting the table. Even from this angle, Tooru can see that he’s smiling by how his cheeks puff out slightly.

 

During dinner, when they’re all seated around the low table, Tooru suddenly feels a warm hand cover his before Hajime intertwines their fingers under the table. Tooru looks up at him, biting his lip to hide his smile, and Hajime squeezes his hand.

From across the table, Hajime’s mom chokes on her drink.

**Author's Note:**

> ah,, the last line is supposed to be hajime's mom realising and assuming they were lying about the massage just being a massage but.. anyway.. this is sorta innocent and fluffy heh, i hope it was still enjoyable. thank you for reading!
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notmykink)


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